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Topic: Session 11.1 - The Escape (Read 3137 times)

One moment, the adventurers were standing in the middle of the Lizardfolk massacre, the next, somewhere else, with nothing in between except the speaking of the command word by Azarian.

They stood in an ancient ruined city, one of marble that was slowly losing its battle against time and encroaching nature. Above them was an open and clear night sky, the light of the moon bathing the city square where they stood.

Dariooq, Scale, Erinalia, and Azarian all stood motionless over Garbhan?s unconscious form as the shock of teleporting past them.

The staff that they all touched was now lightly smoking and charred from top to bottom, everyone but Azarian instinctively let go. Azarian in turn, raised it in front of him to look at it closer, and was quickly enraged.

?Damn it!? he said as he threw the staff at a nearby boulder, upon which the now brittle piece of wood splintered into dozens of pieces.

Erin finally responded as Garbh?n took her by the arm and helped her up to her feet. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, but her face was also much paler than normal.

"I'm sorry... I don't feel very well, Garbh?n," was all she could say. She swayed unsteadily on her feet for a moment before suddenly doubling over and vomiting the contents of her stomach upon the sacred ground before her.

Garbh?n nodded his thanks to the two island barbarians and moved unsteadily to Erinalia. His combat wounds were partially healed, and the effects of the poison from the crossbow bolts still weakened him.

"Come, Erin. Come to your feet," he spoke gently to her as he reached for her elbow.

Erinalia did not move to get up. Instead she just sat upon the ground with shoulders slumped - seemingly defeated. Tears streamed down her face. Her sobbing continued, though it had quieted down a bit.

"I know you did not intend for this," Scale said. "This is what I mean by your disrepect for the unknown and arrogance. You do have great skill, but even you must practice more caution." The accusation was no longer a part of Scale's voice. He was simply stating what he believed was fact.

"To return to my village would take a some time. {ooc: 6 or 7 hours} I suggest we move out of these ruins, and rest. We should not approach my village in the dark."

Scale turned to regard Garbh?n. "Your skin is thick," he said. A common compliment amoung the hunters and warriors in Scale's tribe.

Scale climbed up a fallen column to look around the area. After a moment his throat rumbled lowly, a sign Dariooq had come to know as a warning of impending danger, or a realization of a threat.

"This is not good," the reptillian said flatly. "These ruins stretch on beyond the edge of the moonlight." He jumped down, "They very well may be here after all."

Scale began speaking to everyone though mostly to Dariooq. "The Poison Dusk worship a goddess, whose name escapes me at the moment. These ruins are forbidden to any who do not worship this same goddess."

Scale swung his head to Azarian, "And here we are right in the middle of them." His glare was no acusatory. Scale had done his chiding already and was satisfied that his points were made and taken. This was more a look of warning to someone who knew what it meant to offend a god.

Scale looked back to everyone else. "Do not bleed on this ground, that is forbidden."

Dariooq grabbed Garbhan by the armor and hauled him to his feet, even as Scale was assisting the horseman.

"This is the sacred place for the Poison Dusk?" He asked his long-time friend. "I would have thought that they would have been here, since they were not at their village." The tall darfellen looked about for signs of recent habitation. My die roller came up with a "2", unmodified. "You're right; we are in a ruins. I didn't notice that. But where, then, are the Duskers?" He wondered aloud.